


Dangerous Night (Clato)

by AndHerFlowers



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, One Shot, this has no plot but it's poetic so it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndHerFlowers/pseuds/AndHerFlowers
Summary: ~ In the hours after Clove’s death, while searching for Thresh, Cato’s mind races through his recent memories. He remembers moments with his love, the too-few moments they got to spend together. He recalls meeting her, not understanding her, slowly falling for her, her driving him mad in the arena. He comes to the realization he cannot win without his true Star-Crossed lover, but he decides to make the Capitol remember them, the kids they brainwashed and robbed of their future. In his final hours, Cato refuses to play the game he has been training for his entire life. ~
Relationships: Cato & Clove (Hunger Games), Cato/Clove (Hunger Games), Clato (Hunger Games), Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Dangerous Night (Clato)

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: I don’t own Suzanne Collins’ characters of Clove and Cato nor the Thirty Seconds to Mars song Dangerous Night)

-We burned and we bled, we try to forget-

She was the first thing he noticed in the arena, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, no matter how much he wanted to simply start the game, taste the blood until her breath no longer lingered in his mouth.  
Smoked raged through him, but it couldn’t burn away her touch, it couldn’t hurt more than he hurt already. Blood could wash away the bitter aftertaste; to wash away her essence etched into his soul, he would have to tear himself apart from the inside. 

-But the memories left are still haunting-

It did no good. She was everywhere, her knives flying, her mad laugh ringing in his ears. She was in the eyes of the dead, in the clashing of weapons, she was the Chaos herself. Flames licked his insides. For a terrible moment, he felt a pang of guilt. There was no way he could do what had to be done. 

-The walls that we built from bottles and pills-

They never really talked, back when they were still home, training in the District 2 gym, but that didn’t mean much. Nobody talked there, nobody cared, there were no friendships. You train, you sleep, you take whatever keeps your body from collapsing from the strain, you build your walls up high. Those things bring you victory. Friendship brings you death.

-We swallow until we're not talking-

He never questioned it, not the training, not the games. It was better not to think, better to turn off your brain and become a killing machine that would make your district proud. He learned to take it in without words, the inhumane strain, stress, long hours, fear, beating. He hardened himself as this was his only way of survival. When the choice was between trembling from fear every year, unprepared and helpless, and pushing yourself past your limits in order to create a beast out of yourself, for Cato, there was no choice at all.

-I... I am a man on fire-  
He was in the training center, angrily pacing the room. Her calmness drove him crazy.  
“But that’s the thing.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling with maliciousness. “That’s all he is – a boy on fire. A boy with no training, frightened, hiding behind those flames. They might have been a surprise, but they’re no threat. You take him out, I take fire girl, and in a few days, no-one will remember District 12 ever existed. You are a champion, Cato. Act like one.”  
He wanted to smash her in the face.

-You... a violent desire-  
He wanted to grab her head and punch her until she screamed, until she showed some sort of emotion, anything other than her calculating exterior, other than those mad eyes. How could she stay so cold? How could she train and kill and torture, without batting an eye?  
Of course, that was what they were trained to do. But Cato was driven, he was driven by anger and adrenaline, by bloodlust and the need to survive. What made her the way she was? How does someone do all the terrible things they did for absolutely no reason? That was not sadistic. He was sadistic, because he enjoyed his victims’ screams. Her, she did not care whether they screamed or cried or tried to run away. She put her knife through their heart with as much emotion as she twisted her brown curls around her fingers.  
He would never admit it, but she terrified him. 

-What a dangerous night to fall in love-  
And yet he was driven to her, more than he ever was to anyone in his life. Maybe it was lust, maybe it was madness, maybe it was the inevitability of the moment he would kill her, but it made no change. She was dangerous to him, in more ways than she realized. 

-Don't know why we still hide what we've become-

The arena was bathing in colors of the sunset. Marvel, Glimmer and the rest were long gone, there was only a handful of them left alive. He couldn’t understand why she was still acting like a stranger around him. Not that he could generally understand anything she did, but there were no more Careers around to use it against them, and the audience in the Capitol would love it. They ate the Star-Crossed Lovers up like dessert. But she wouldn’t listen to him, of course she wouldn’t. It didn’t matter it might win them sponsors. It didn’t matter there was always a chance they would both be dead by morning.  
“They can never know,” she said.

-Do you wanna cross the line?-

But despite it all, despite the denial and the hatred in her eyes, he could see she was in just as much pain as him. Their hearts were splitting into pieces and it was killing them both. One way or another, that would end soon. Pretending what happened was a dream, his hallucination, couldn’t cut it anymore. A decision had to be made; the question was whether they would murder each other with weapons or emotions. Once they chose their path, there was no coming back.

-We're runnin' out of time-

Death hung over their heads day and night, making the air thick with the unsaid. Time was up; they couldn’t run anymore, couldn’t keep putting off the inevitable. At some point, they had to make the call that would end it all, one way or another. After the calm comes the storm.

-A dangerous night to fall in love-

They didn’t even wait for the voice from the speakers to finish. She shot up and bolted towards him and his hands were on her jawline and in her hair and on her back, and her lips were on his, and their breaths were mixed together once more. All bridges were burnt, there was no going back, but she tasted sweet and he didn’t care. Finally, he thought. Finally, he could let himself love her. Finally, they could both go home.

-Started a stranger, a lover in danger-  
The next few hours were a blur, a beautiful nothingness of pretending they didn’t have children to kill, of acting like normal teenagers in love, of staring into each other’s eyes. Moonlight caressed Clove’s pale face and right there and then, Cato knew he could never have killed her. She was much too powerful for her life to be taken away by his spear. He didn’t know her, not really, but he knew this – he could not go on living without her. 

-The edge of a knife-

Knives. Goddamn knives. Cato hated those. He couldn’t understand why someone would choose a weapon that is shorter, less intimidating, and with practically no reach. But the girl seemed to love them. Of course, she was so tiny that he wondered whether she could even hold a spear or something as useful, but he decided not to ask her that. Despite her small frame, the girl was fear-inducing. Not enough to be a threat, but he would have to keep an eye on her out in the arena. He realized very quickly, on the first days of training, there was much more to her than she led on to. Clove, she said her name was. What a stupid, stupid name.

-The face of an angel, the heart of a ghost-  
“Clove.” Her name sounded hoarse and distant coming out of his mouth, like it didn’t belong.  
“I’m worried.” The words sounded wrong coming from her. If she was worried, he should be paralyzed from fear. She must’ve picked up the shock from his face, because she snickered. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. But I couldn’t sleep, and I kept thinking, what will be the thing we didn’t see coming, you know? So far, this isn’t hard. Something is bound to go horribly wrong and it drives me up the wall I can’t see what it is. I feel like it’s right in front of my nose.”  
Saying that, she didn’t move from his doorway. Cato wasn’t sure if she expected him to reply. He wasn’t sure of anything at this point. So, he did the least logical, least Career thing he possibly could have. The thing that was mots likely to be his end. He stepped to her and gave her a hug.  
She looked up to his face, and for the first time, he saw something in her eyes other than cold determination and cruelty. They were glazed over, however she wasn’t crying. It was a spark of hope, but something more as well, something deep and hidden that he couldn’t quite grasp. Regret, perhaps, sadness, maybe even the slightest hint of affection. It was a beautiful sight. Impulsively, he planted the faintest kiss on her lips. He was certain she would pull away and stab him, but she didn’t. She returned the kiss and smiled a little.

-Was it a dream?-

“We will never speak of this.” She didn’t sound like it was up for debate, so he nodded. He wasn’t offended or hurt – he knew this would only get them killed in the Arena. They didn’t need extra weaknesses, soft spots to be used against them. And besides, it wasn’t love that made them do it. It was irrationality, the last chance at freedom, fear. They let themselves be afraid together for a moment, admit how terrified they were, because they understood. They were the only ones that understood.  
It would never happen again. The more time passed, the less Cato was convinced it even happened in the first place.

-A dangerous night to fall in love-

“Cato!” It wasn’t supposed to go this way. That was all he could thing about while running towards the Cornucopia. It wasn’t supposed to go his way, none of it. “CATO!” Sprint out there, get the packs, leave. Deal with District 12 later, when they themselves have gotten what they need. It was that simple. He never for a second questioned that part of their plan could go sideways. Clove could run like the wind, he was covering her from the edge of the woods, and Fire girl was occupied with keeping Fire boy from dying on her. Districts 5 and 6 would probably wait until it’s all clear and then grab their packs. A simple plan, and then they would go home.  
The first surprise was Foxface, bolting towards the Cornucopia before either of them could register, what was happening. But District 12 still seemed helpless, and Clove was still confident in her part. She could do it.  
It all went to hell, and there was nothing he could do. His muscles tensed when he lost sight of her, every nerve in his body buzzing. Suddenly, she was behind the Cornucopia, and he couldn’t have her back anymore. There was a scream and sounds of fight, but it didn’t sound like her. It sounded like Katniss. He let out a breath and rolled his shoulders, a single moment before he heard a clang of metal and another scream, a scream that pierced his ears and made his insides bleed, one that wouldn’t stop ringing in his ears until death took pity on him and took him away.  
Before the games, Cato would’ve gone for the boy. He would’ve realized Clove was past saving, and he would have gotten rid of Thresh when he was too focused on running away to notice a spear flying towards him. However, this wasn’t District 2 training center. This was the Hunger Games, where all logic was abandoned, and Cato ran for his dying love like he has never run in his life.  
Thick red blood was dripping from the cut above her eyebrow, and for a split second, he thought it wasn’t that bad. The gash was nasty, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Then his eyes focused and he saw the dent in her skull, the glossiness of her eyes, the worst of all – fear. And he knew everything was lost. It must have been written on his face, because she smiled a little.  
“I was right, see.” He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. Her brain injury might have had her saying nonsense. “That thing that was bound to go horribly wrong? It went even worse than I’d anticipated.” A chuckle escaped her lips, followed by a weak cough.  
“No,” he shook his head. “No, this can’t be it. We are so, so close. If you can hold on for a few more minutes, they’ll fix you. I’ll find the others, and I’ll kill them all. And then we can go home.” The last word got stuck in his throat. Even as he said it, he knew that wasn’t true. They could never go home. “Don’t leave me.” A pathetic request, and an impossible one. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t go on without her.  
“Then don’t.” The words sounded pained, but strangely calming. “Don’t go on without me. Stop playing their game. Finish on your own terms. It seems so clear now, what we should have done. But alas, it’s too late for me now. You must bring this to an end. Avenge me, my love. Beat them at their own game.”  
Tears fell on her face, but she couldn’t feel then anymore.

-A dangerous night to fall in love-

Truth hit him like a wave, crashing into his chest. It didn’t matter anymore. No, it never truly did. The final kill, the victory, him making it home – he could never have that. There was no home without here, no life if she wasn’t with him; it made no difference whether he lived or died, for he has been dead his whole life. He only ever felt alive with her, he only wanted to make it back to her, and now they took his Clove away, the only person that has ever made Cato question … Question everything, all of it.  
There was no victory for him anymore. There was only revenge, a word that wasn’t near sufficient for what he felt, for what he wanted to do to that boy, to the fire kids, the Capitol, the world itself. No amount of mayhem, no number of screams could wash away her blood on his hands, make him forget her scream. But he would try. He would try to make them suffer as much as she had suffered. Somebody had to pay, and it was only Thresh’s luck he was the one he could get to.  
He turned his face to the cameras in the sky, a cruel smile formed on his lips. “Go on,” he dared the Capitol. “I’m dead anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> some more things to make us all sad, because that was exactly what we needed


End file.
